<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>in the mood for food by thepassionatehumanoid</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003211">in the mood for food</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepassionatehumanoid/pseuds/thepassionatehumanoid'>thepassionatehumanoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>in the mood for food [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt at Humor, Comedy, Fluff without Plot, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:00:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepassionatehumanoid/pseuds/thepassionatehumanoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think that went rather well," continues Joe, his eyes crinkling at the corners with the force of his grin. Nicky so badly wanted to kiss him right there and then, jelly legs be damned. </p><p>Right on cue, an explosion goes off in the distant building behind them, punctuating Joe's cheery statement.</p><p>"..."</p><p>"..."</p><p>"... Nevermind. Everyone scatter!"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>in the mood for food [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the mood for food</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <i>1979, somewhere in the outskirts of Madrid.</i>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>"You know what?" Joe says, as everyone else was still gasping for breath. One of his arms was still firmly wrapped around Nicky's waist since Nicky's legs were currently doing their best impression of those jell-o meals that were popular back in early 50s America, courtesy of their impromptu escape. </p><p> </p><p>Although it was Joe's idea to propelled their way down the side of the mansion via ugly drapes, unfortunately it was Nicky who suffered the consequences of their poorly time landing. Andy was no where to be seen, presumably on the way in retrieving their getaway vehicle. Booker on the other hand was panting like he just completed a marathon which in a way he did, considering he had to out run some coked-up, trigger happy weapon traffickers. </p><p> </p><p>"I think that went rather well," continues Joe, his eyes crinkling at the corners with the force of his grin. Nicky so badly wanted to kiss him right there and then, jelly legs be damned. </p><p> </p><p>Right on cue, an explosion goes off in the distant building behind them, punctuating Joe's cheery statement.</p><p> </p><p>"..."</p><p> </p><p>"..."</p><p> </p><p>"... Nevermind. Everyone scatter!" </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Once the three of them were safely huddled in the backseat, with Andy steering her freshly stolen Volkswagen beetle through the dirt road and her labrys riding shotgun, Nicky finally takes the moment to have a proper look at Booker. </p><p> </p><p>Nicky blinks and rubs his eyes twice before blurting out, "what happened to your eyebrows?" </p><p> </p><p>Booker swore, rubs a hand over his now overly smooth face and swore some more. </p><p> </p><p>Nicky, who was squished in the middle between the love of his life and his found brother, didn't have to concentrate very hard to decipher Booker's mutterings of "dammit" and "got too close to the fire." </p><p> </p><p>Andy looks up through the rear view mirror and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, your face looks like raw dough, Book." </p><p> </p><p>Joe manages to stifle his laughter in time with an unconvincing cough. Booker merely sighs and covers his eyes with his arm.</p><p> </p><p>Nicky, who was resting his head on Joe's shoulder, stumbles into an idea that could cheer Booker up for the time being. </p><p> </p><p>"Hmm, speaking of raw dough, you know what? I think I'll make the French pastry you like." </p><p> </p><p>From the driver's seat, Andy visibly perks up at the mention of pastry. Booker, however, only grunts as he shifts to give Nicky more leg room. </p><p> </p><p>"What kind of pastry, babe?" pipes Joe. </p><p> </p><p>Nicky tries to recall the name of the pastry in question but his mind keeps blanking out even though he can picture what it looks like perfectly. He makes a small noise of frustration and says, "the one that has a lot of butter." </p><p> </p><p>Joe hums as he teasingly replies, "you mean croissant?" </p><p> </p><p>Nicky shakes his head and says, "no, that's a bread."</p><p> </p><p>"Is it brioche?" </p><p> </p><p>"No, Andy. That's still a bread." </p><p> </p><p>They spend the next 20 minutes like that, each taking turns at guessing possible French pastries that has a lot of butter in them. It's a long list. </p><p> </p><p>"You're thinking of kouign-amann," Booker says,  finally joining in the conversation. "And it's technically a cake, not a pastry." </p><p> </p><p>He tentatively peers through his fingers covering his face and softly asks, "you'll really make kouign-amann for me? I mean, do you even know how to make it?" </p><p> </p><p>Nicky merely smiles and shrugs, his shoulders rubbing against both Booker and Joe at the same time as he replies, "well no, but how hard can it be?" </p><p> </p><p>Turns out making kouign-amann could be very hard but it's nothing that a lot of trial and error can't fix. Though, the four of them, including Andromache the Sweet Tooth, steers clear of anything with butter and sugar for the next few weeks afterwards.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fun fact: Hitler was actually the first one to commissioned the Volkswagen Beetle. You can read more about it <a href="https://auto.howstuffworks.com/under-the-hood/auto-manufacturing/did-the-nazis-invent-the-volkswagen-beetle.htm#:~:text=Adolf%20Hitler%20and%20other%20Nazi,present%20%2D%2D%20a%20Volkswagen%20convertible.&amp;text=The%20Beetle%20was%20indeed%20the,set%20his%20plan%20into%20motion.">here</a></p><p>That being said, I hc the Old Guard to just steal and trashed any baddie's Beetle they come across. </p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading! Stay safe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>